


The Day He Existed in 1989

by colourinside



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post series 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 05:29:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9108562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colourinside/pseuds/colourinside
Summary: With loneliness as his sole companion, the Doctor ends up in a busy Christmas time London. An unexpected encounter brightens up his day.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christm— Oh, blimey! It seems Christmas is over… Something must have gone a bit wibbly-wobbly with my timing… Anyway, here you go! One more Christmas fanfiction – one can never have enough of those!

The thrill of the Christmas season for the average human is that it repeats itself every year. For some, this means a positive experience, for more it is a rather negative one. For the Doctor however, it was coincidence. He had not planned on strolling through pre-Christmas London with its markets, festooned fir trees, well-lit, decorated shops and golden Christmas lights that shone so brightly above the streets that they could rival the tired glow of the sun that peeked weakly through the wafts of mist and clouds in the sky. It was eleven o’clock in the morning. The Doctor walked past a pair of trees that wore crystal white, dressed quite glamorously to fit the season. Cars roared by, a group of people passed him, guffawing and smiling, their breaths visible as white clouds in the cold. They looked happy. Young people, surrounded by friends, a long life of achievements and mistakes ahead of them.

The Doctor crossed the street. It was quite a busy one, the engines were purring and buzzing while the people behind the wheels were waiting for the traffic lights to turn green so they could go on, Christmas life rushing by their car windows. He sighed and thought of Rose. That Christmas dinner. That sense of peace after the world had been on the brink of war with an alien race. And her smile when she had seen him enter the room, ready to join the celebration. He thought of Donna and her Christmas marriage that had been crashed first by him and then by the “Christmas Star”. Another war that had had to be stopped. He glanced over at two young men in Santa Claus costumes who handed out leaflets, hoping that this time, Christmas could preserve its peacefulness. Judging by their exasperated expressions however, they might like the idea of starting a war. The Doctor took a turn.

At the far end of the street, at the edge of the empty sidewalk, next to a tree that was wrapped in golden fairy lights, stood a little boy. He was clad in a thick, stiff, blue jacket, brown hair peeking out from under a patterned woollen hat but despite the surely warm attire, he was shaking. Upon approaching gingerly, the Doctor could hear that he was whimpering under his breath, sniffing and hiccupping quiet sobs. He stood completely still, as if he was afraid to move, every now and again following passing cars with his eyes as if subtly looking out for help.

“Oh, hello…” said the Doctor as he reached him, crouching down to meet his teary eyes. The boy looked up, red-cheeked, swallowing a sob. One gloved hand was tightly clutching the paw of a stuffed badger.

“There there, no need to cry, hm?” The Doctor remained sitting on his haunches, smiling warmly at the boy. “There’s hardly a problem so great in the universe that it cannot be solved…” The boy wiped his right eye, sniffing twice as he calmed, looking at the Doctor with tentative hope and hardly hidden fear in his eyes.

“Now, tell me what happened? Perhaps I could be of service to you.”

“I’ve lost my mummy…” the boy said, “I want my mummy…” He was about to start crying again.

“Shsh, alright… It’s alright, I’m here, it’s okay now…” The Doctor reached out to reassuringly squeeze his shoulders. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Matt…” the boy sniffed.

“Okay, Matt… we’re gonna find your mummy. Alright? I’m gonna help you find your mummy.” He nodded slowly, wiping at his eyes again. “Yeah? Do you trust me with that?” Matt didn’t move, clearly pondering the question. It was evident that he had been taught not to give away his trust too easily. Still, there was hope lingering in his grey-blue eyes and the tears had dried. The Doctor let go of his shoulders.

“Alright, that’s only fair,” he said, contemplating, “Maybe your friend here should get a say in this too, eh?” Addressing the stuffed animal, the Doctor shifted on the tips of his Converse, pleased to see a faint smile tugging at the corner of the boy’s mouth.

“Her name is William but she likes Billie better,” he said, barely a trace of shyness remaining in his voice. “You see she couldn’t quite decide whether she wants to be a boy or a girl so she just decided to be both…”

“Lovely to meet you, Billie.” With a nod and a fond smile, the Doctor shook the badger’s paw.

Playing along, Matt took on a high-pitched voice, matching the character that he had created for his companion and having Billie the badger wave at the Doctor approvingly, he said, “Nice to meet you too, Sir,” cocking Billie’s head to the side, he added, “You have to tell me your name, too.”

“Oh yes, right! How inconsiderate of me!” One hand tapped his forehead as if to scold himself for his lack of conversational etiquette. Of course, Matt wouldn’t trust a stranger without a name.

“I’m the Doctor.”

“The Doctor?” the boy said, dropping the roleplay. He furrowed his brow and a short giggle tumbled from his mouth. “That’s not really a name, is it?”

“Of course it is!” the Doctor said indignantly at Matt’s amusement. “And there’s something else you should know…” Lowering his voice to a mysterious whisper, he added, “I’m a time traveller, but don’t tell anyone I said that…” He winked. “So, reckon I can help you find your mum?” His question inspired a faithful nod. “Does Billie think so too?”

“Yes,” Billie said, firmly.

“Allons-y then!” the Doctor exclaimed, offering Matt his hand _._ Upon receiving a confused look, he felt the need to explain, “That’s French for ‘Let’s go’…” The little boy hesitated but took the hand eventually, determined, and after the Doctor had gotten to his feet, they slowly started off, Billie the badger trailing close behind.

While they walked, the Doctor subjected Matt to an inquiry. _Where did you last see your mum?_ Matt told him of a book store by the road. They had gone inside since his mother had presumably wanted to collect some books she had ordered. _What happened next?_ His mother had gotten distracted. A catchy title, a thrilling plot summary, a captivating style. And Matt had waited, trying to be patient but it had taken too long. He told the Doctor that he had seen Santa again. He had been carrying a green balloon that was bobbing up and down above his red and white hat as he had passed the shop. Matt had wanted to see where he was heading, had wanted to unravel the mystery that shrouded his character. So, silently, he had wandered off, had walked and walked until he had lost sight of Santa. _How long ago was that?_ Perhaps, the Doctor should have known better than to ask a roughly seven-year-old about something as complex as time. According to Matt it was “too long ago” since he was obviously missing his mummy. But since no one else had stopped and offered help yet, he assumed that Matt couldn’t have stood crying on that street corner for very long. Hence, the most sensible approach to the problem was to return to aforementioned book store. The Doctor was speculating that Matt’s mother might get back there as well, after having searched the nearby streets. Hopefully, it hadn’t been long enough for her to get in touch with the police.

 

The book store was within a ten-minute-walk-distance and if not for the kind directions of passers-by it would have been easily missed. It was small and modest and barely lit by more than dulled fairy lights that weren’t enough to draw attention to the narrow shop windows filled with book displays and a few tin Santas. The shop sat on the ground floor of a windowed building behind a bluish, wooden exterior and despite being rather unobtrusive compared to most other shops, it looked quite charming. Perhaps it was charming _because_ it was unobtrusive. In front of the shop, there stood a chestnut-haired woman in a vermilion felt jacket. While trying to keep up a calm posture, she was talking quite frantically to someone through the door of the shop, gesturing wildly. Upon seeing the woman, Matt’s face lit up and a cheerful “Mummy!” escaped him. The Doctor smiled at the boy starting to tug at his hand but he made sure they came within earshot before he let go of Matt, who was fidgeting at his side, allowing him to run towards his mother. He couldn’t believe how lucky they were to actually find her here.

“Mummy!” At the sound of his voice and the excited tip-tapping of his boots on the pavement, his mother turned to face him and immediately, the wrinkles of sorrow melted off her face, dissolved by a bright smile that lit a spark in her eyes.

“Matt!” she called, squatting down to catch him as he landed heavily in her welcoming arms.

It was the happy reunion of two people who had lost each other. They were panting with relief, after fear and worry had emotionally exhausted them. Some wheezes turned into mélanges of joyful laughs and sobs, one barely distinguishable from the other. Soon the relief was voiced in whispers of “Oh my god, I’ve got you, you’re safe, I’ve got you” while they didn’t loosen the hug they had tightly enveloped each other in, afraid of losing sight of each other again if they were to let go. It was as if they had been separated for years instead of roughly twenty minutes. Something about this scene was moving the Doctor and the corners of his mouth twitched as he attempted to smile at the sight of it rather than shedding a tear or two. Finally, the mother pulled away and quickly wiped her eyes in favour of putting on a scolding expression.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again! You can’t just run away like that, do you hear me?” Quite contrary to her scolding tone, she caressed the boy’s face, tracing the wet lines that his tears had drawn onto his cheeks. “Do you hear me?” She asked again as Matt gave no reaction. After he had overcome his state of shocked muteness, he nodded and uttered a quiet “Uh-huh…”

“Why _did you_ run away anyway?” she asked, but then she averted her face, wearing a puzzled expression as she noticed the Doctor standing at a distance. At her confused glance, his dumb smile crumbled and a jerk went through his spine as he realised that he had been staring. He was just about to stutter an apology, when Matt turned around to follow his mother’s gaze and pointing at the Doctor, he said, “He helped me find you.”

“Did he now?” the mother asked, slowly getting to her feet, her legs visibly stinging at the stiff movement. She curled her hand around Matt’s and approaching the Doctor, she said, “Then, I suppose I owe him a debt of gratitude.” She said it more to Matt than to the Doctor. When they came to a halt in front of him, she put on a genuine smile and said, “Thank you so _so_ much, I wish there was something I could do to pay you back.”

A breath of surprised laughter fluttered past his lips at the notion. “Really, don’t mention it…” the Doctor said, “It was a pleasure, wasn’t it, Matt?”

Matt beamed up at the Doctor in awe but instead of an answer, he turned back to his mother and asked, “Can he stay with us, mummy? Please say he can!”

She laughed lightly at her son’s straightforwardness. Something within the Doctor stirred at Matt’s words. He had affected him, he had left an impression, he had made himself into something significant to the boy. The thought made him smile faintly.

“Well, actually I wouldn’t see why not…” said his mother after a moment of contemplation.

This surprised the Doctor even more. He hadn’t expected to be invited in, hadn’t expected to be welcome company. Overwhelmed, he made an attempt to back out of the situation. He was torn, unsure whether or not he should permit himself to invade their day like this, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stay. His loneliness made it difficult to decline, but difficult to accept at the same time. He longed for someone to be there, someone to share trivialities with him to distract him from the void that was closing in around him. But likewise, he didn’t know if he would be able to bear the fleeting contact, constantly being reminded that he would have to let go. His insecure words were betraying his inner turmoil. Matt and his mother were not buying his empty excuses.

“Oh, do you?” she asked instead, “Do you think you can still find some time to quickly grab a coffee with us?”

The Doctor felt himself giving in at the sight of Matt’s face lighting up.

“I really think your service requires a proper reward,” his mother insisted.

He found that he was unable to refuse.

 

They settled for a small café in a street the Doctor wasn’t sure he had visited before. It was about as unobtrusive as the book shop had been and he figured that in a way, Matt’s mother seemed to adore unobtrusive places. However, unobtrusiveness was not a trait she could claim for herself. She dressed in eye-catching colours and she still walked with the same wonder at the world as her little son. She was not shy to express joy, to point and gaze in astonishment, she carried liveliness to quiet places – maybe that was what drew her to them.

They sat next to the window that was decorated with a few golden Christmas stars and sticky snow spray. People were walking by every now and then and the Doctor watched them pass, as if he expected to notice someone that he might know. As he stopped looking out at the street, he glanced around the room in search of any indication as to what year he might have ended up in; he hadn’t cared to check when he had landed the TARDIS. But according to the design of the vehicles and the lack of mobile phones, he was guessing— Soon, he spotted a poster that was advertising a jazz concert. 14th of January 1990. This was December 1989. He gave himself a mental nod.

The way they had arranged to sit, Billie the badger was staring at the Doctor from across the table through her big glass-marble eyes. Her look was a little lopsided and the Doctor mimicked it and earned a smile from Matt who was sitting next to Billie. His mum sat next to her son while the Doctor occupied the opposite side of the table.

While they peeled out of their jackets, the Doctor suddenly flinched with a realisation, “Oh pardon me,” he exclaimed, addressing Matt’s mother, “I haven’t even asked for your name.”

She responded with a sigh of laughter, silently telling him that it was okay. “I’m Anne.” She didn’t stop smiling.

“Very nice to meet you,” the Doctor said but before he could introduce himself, Matt beat him to it.

“He’s the Doctor,” he said, a sense of pride swelling in his voice even though the Doctor couldn’t say at what. Maybe at having a mouthful of pronouncing his quite unusual name.

Anne laughed again. This time she sounded truly amused, just as if Matt had said something that had charmed her in an _Oh, that boy_ kind of way. She tugged at his woollen hat and pulled it off his head, then she fondly ruffled through his hair before looking back at the Doctor.

“So, you’re a doctor then?” she asked.

“Well, not exactly… I’m just the Doctor.”

“That’s what people call you?”

“That’s what I call myself.”

Anne pursed her lips. “That’s odd,” she said.

Before the Doctor had a chance to react, Anne had already thought of another question.

“So, Doctor,” she said, enjoying the sound of it, “what would you like to have?”

“Uh, I don’t know… What are my options?” He hadn’t had a look at the menu yet.

“Hm, let me guess… Caramel Macchiato? I have a feeling that you’re more of a sweet type…”

There was something in the way she was reading him. It was an intense look, a look that was searching for words in his expression and posture, words that would explain him.

“Caramel Macchiato sounds lovely,” he finally said, “I’ll have that.” He couldn’t help but smile again. They did a lot of smiling at each other.

For just a moment, there was silence and Matt could have been swallowed by it but, naturally, he didn’t want to be forgotten and neither did Billie. She was seized by impatience and wasn’t able to remain still, swaying back and forth instead and eventually climbing up Anne’s arm to nibble at her ear-ringed earlobe.

“I want a milkshake,” she said, pressing her cold glass-nose into Anne’s cheek.

“Yes, honey, I got it…” said Anne, gently shooing Billie away but she remained close.

_“No,”_ she repeated, with impudent force, _“I_ want a milkshake!”

Besides studying the badger, Anne gave no reaction. The frown on her face was one of exasperated confusion and she didn’t seem to pick up on the urge in Billie’s voice. The Doctor however did notice that she wasn’t one to take well to people making her wait for an answer, so he allowed himself to chime in.

“What flavour would you like?” he asked, attracting Billie’s attention. As she turned to him, he could tell that she was rather surprised at his question even though she tried hard to conceal it.

“Banana,” she said confidently, glass-eyeing him again from across the table.

The Doctor’s lips spread into a wide smile. “Good choice!” he said, “I like bananas too, they are really good!” Matt let out a stifled giggle and as he blushed with joy, he hid behind Billie, hoping that the Doctor wouldn’t see.

“Your friend has good taste,” the Doctor said, addressing Matt, who had pressed himself into that convenient corner where the back of the synthetic leather sofa met the window sill.

“Do you like banana milkshakes too, Matt?” Anne asked, poking her son’s shoulder. At her touch, he sat back up, nodding fiercely.

“Yes,” he confirmed, “Yes!”

“Do you want one?” He nodded again and his mother returned the nod, approving.

“Blimey, you both have excellent taste!” the Doctor said, again inspiring Matt to giggle at his observation.

Anne was already rising from her seat to pick up their drinks, when Matt gently gripped her arm.

“But Billie gets one too, yes? She said she wants one…”

The Doctor noted how Anne bit her lip at the request, carefully pondering her response.

“Honey, you won’t drink two milkshakes…”

“But Billie will drink the second one!” Matt grouched.

“You could share a large one,” the Doctor offered, hesitantly, “Just get two straws…”

For just a moment, both Matt and his mother remained silent, baffled at the Doctor’s unexpected intrusion. But then Anne chuckled softly and said, “Good idea, I should have thought of that,” and Matt seemed to be pleased.

 

Anne had insisted on paying and there was nothing the Doctor could do to change her mind. Yet she had to comply to his kind service of carrying at least two of their drinks back to the table. Upon tasting the first gulp of his Caramel Macchiato, the Doctor complimented Anne’s recommendation for him since he found that it tasted fantastic. Then he asked her what she had ordered and was surprised to hear her answer, “It’s just coffee, black, with two sugars.” The Doctor remarked that he hadn’t thought her to be a bitter type but she told him that she was simply a little exhausted and still agitated – this was meant to justify her choice. Matt too was content enough with his banana milkshake to simply slurp it without a word, occasionally letting Billie try a sip of his drink through her own straw. “Mmh,” she hummed, overwhelmed and Matt smiled at her.  

The Doctor took in the sweet smell of his Caramel Macchiato and immerged into his musings. He looked at the few people sitting in the small café, he half-heartedly listened to them chit-chatting about their Christmas arrangements, about their linear progression of days and weeks and months. _“Oh why can’t every day be like Christmas? Why can’t that feeling go on endlessly?”_ Elvis Presley sang dully through the speakers. To the Doctor, it didn’t mean much. If he wanted to, he could travel from one Christmas right to another. Any year, any place. Here he’d get the hectic of the shopping, there he’d get the festive lustre of the cities and another time, he’d get a chance to be invited to a Christmas dinner. He’d see the traditions change and transform and reconstruct, but he would never stay long enough to experience the whole of it, to enjoy the permanence of the Christmas spirit.

“What will you be doing at Christmas?” Anne interrupted his thoughts and he blinked heavily as if she had woken him from a deep slumber.

“Oh,” he grinned, caught off-guard, “Just hoping for a little bit of peace… What about you?”

She told him they’d be celebrating with her parents who had a lovely cottage on the countryside. She and Matt would not bother setting up a Christmas tree in their London flat due to a lack of space. Her parents however would get a rather big and gorgeously decorated tree each year since her mother was very passionate about collecting Christmas decoration.

“And Santa’s gonna get me a football,” Matt cut in, beaming proudly.

“So, you’re a footballer?” Matt nodded. “Nice,” the Doctor said. “I once tried teaching some football to a horse… It went better than expected… But don’t get any ideas!” This made Matt snort through his straw as he tried to contain his cheerful laughter. At Anne’s chiding expression, both Matt and the Doctor grew sheepish, but then they exchanged a look, forming a bond that could withstand any motherly grudge.

“Doctor, how old are you?” Matt asked, all of a sudden. The question entirely defied the context of their conversation and the Doctor found himself contemplating what had inspired him to ask, what had made him want to know. He saw the chastising look of his mother who evidently considered the question inappropriate.

“I’m over 900 years old,” the Doctor said, truthfully. He added a mysterious wink.

“Really?” Matt asked, eyes wide with wonder. “That’s much older than my grandpa!”

Anne smiled benignly. “He’s kidding, Matt,” she said, unsure whether she was approving of her new acquaintance’s humour or should rather shake her head at his silliness.

“I could tell,” Matt claimed, “You don’t look that old…”

“Regular moisturizing is the key,” the Doctor joked and Matt responded with another giggle.

“You’re so funny,” he said, never ceasing to smile.

 

Matt soon found a fit of energy pinching his muscles and despite his mother asking him to behave himself and stay in his seat for just a while longer, he and Billie left their spot in favour of running around between the mostly empty tables. There wasn’t much space for their footraces and in his wild manner Matt almost knocked down an empty cup that hadn’t yet been collected. But before it shattered on the linoleum floor, the Doctor caught it in a swift move while it was still teetering on the edge of the table. His on-point reaction left Matt astonished and inspired Anne to breathe out a relieved “Oh thank goodness”. At that point she decided that a playground might be a better choice of place for Matt’s sudden energy boost. Since his large banana milkshake still sat on the table, unfinished, the Doctor asked if Matt would kindly allow him to have the rest – and he did.

 

There was a chill in the air that felt more like rain than like snow. It smelled moist, but not like frost and the sky was veiled by light grey clouds that looked like brush strokes on an impressionist painting. The crowns of the trees were bare in the park, where no one had bothered to adorn them with fairy lights. They became black patterns against the grey sky, resting sentries, guarding the playground. Matt and Billie were gleefully climbing the frames among the other children, needing nobody’s company but their own. Anne and the Doctor were sitting next to each other on a nearby park bench, keeping an eye on the wild boy. It was not cold enough for snow but it was too cold to sit still for long. Anne had her felt coat tightly wrapped around her tender figure, her scarf tugged up to her nose so she wouldn’t get a direct noseful of winter air. The Doctor was tempted to offer her his trench coat to use as an additional blanket but he knew she wouldn’t let him. She didn’t know that he wouldn’t feel the cold. But Anne wasn’t shivering yet – they would be fine.

“Doctor,” Anne said quietly to herself, voice muffled by her scarf. She turned to him. Her expression held curiosity, but there was something else underneath. Scepticism, wonder.

“Who are you?” she asked, “Who are you _really?”_

“I told you,” he said, “I’m the Doctor…”

“But _the Doctor?_ Just _the Doctor?”_

He responded with a sharp nod. “Yep. Just the Doctor.”

“And you won’t say anything else?”

He was captured by his thoughts, blankly staring at the December world before him. Why was it that simply being the Doctor was never enough? Wherever he went on the surface of this planet, people kept assuming that he was hiding something because a man who didn’t have a first name and a last name was not real to them. Perhaps he wasn’t real. Not today. Not in London. Not in 1989.

“There is nothing else to say.”

“Hm…” Anne hummed, shifting and burying her bare, reddened hands in her deep coat pockets.

“So, tell me,” she continued, “what do you do? Professionally, privately…”

The Doctor whistled through his teeth, avoiding her eyes as he gave his answer.

“Oh, I’m just travelling around a lot… Seeing different places and cultures… It fascinates me, you know?”

“You travel on your own?” She studied him, empathically searching for a glint of wistfulness in his eyes, looking for regret, sadness and solitude.

“Yeah… s’ppose. Mostly.”

He pursed his lips and the sounds of the city around him dulled as he was engulfed by the depths of his mind. He thought of Rose and of how much he wanted to be with her. He thought of why he couldn’t be with her. He thought of Donna and he knew that she wouldn’t think of him. He thought of Martha who might be thinking of him and he hoped that she was happy with the choice she had made. He thought of how big the universe was, how many stars were forged and how many burned out each day, how many wars were lost, how many lives saved. And he thought that in this whole circle of life and death, in this infinity, he was just a speck of dust, floating without a permanent destination. He was just an ugly scar in the tissue of time and space. He lived at the centre of time and still, he couldn’t rewind it and all he could do was move on, the direction had to be forward. And at some point, there was always the pain of nothingness, the vacuum of loneliness.

“Are you a journalist then?” Anne’s question got him back to reality. He looked at her and it was as if some of his pain had worn off on her. He could tell that she knew that he didn’t bear well with travelling on his own.

“No, I’m more of an explorer… a scientist maybe, always on the lookout for new things.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“And a bit dangerous, too…” he smiled at her, “But that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?”

She returned the smile. “Where are you from? Do you live in London?”

“Oh, no…” he said, chuckling softly, “You see, when you’re travelling around so much, home becomes something different. It’s never attached to a single place, it’s something you can find anywhere. In a smell, a taste, in kindness, in trust… in a smile…” She did smile again, bashfully this time and even through the redness that the cold had painted on her cheeks, he could see her blush. And although he hadn’t answered her question, she didn’t urge him to.

“How come you are in London then?” she asked instead.

“Just passing by,” he said, shrugging.

Then he told her that London had always been one of his favourite cities. The captivating history, the impressive buildings, the remarkable personalities. William Shakespeare, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (genius!), the Queen… Additionally, he made clear that it was not only the city itself that drew him in. He had friends who lived in London but he wasn’t close with them anymore. Still, he liked to visit every now and then and see if their lives were still intact.

“What about you?” he asked, eventually, “You’ve heard so much about me now, tell me something about you and Matt.”

Anne stifled a sad laugh and brushing her dark hair out of her face, she reached around it and curled it into a bun, but released it again since she didn’t have a hair tie to keep it in place.

“Well,” she said, “We have a flat in London, just the two of us. Matt’s father William passed away when Matt was only three…” She held her breath.

“I’m sorry,” the Doctor said with genuine compassion.

“But we get by… I’m a nursery teacher, that means I mostly get home early and we have some time for ourselves. We currently do a lot of baking, Matt loves baking Christmas biscuits…”

“That’s nice,” the Doctor said. He could picture them with flour-stained aprons, Matt cutting biscuits in a careful manner, quite contrary to his usual impetuosity. “Do you make gingerbread too?” He grinned roguishly.

“Yes, we make gingerbread too.” She looked down to her lap to hide her deepening blush and the fond, toothless smile that was tugging on one corner of her lip. But the Doctor saw it nonetheless. She was smiling so much, smiling all the time, never stopping.

They were so absorbed into their wordless conversation that they hadn’t noticed Matt running up to them, a focussed look on his red-cheeked face. As he reached the Doctor he slapped his gloved hand onto his knee and shouted “Tag!” before turning around and heading back towards the playground. The Doctor pushed himself to his feet.

“Oh, you’re not getting away from me! I’m fast, faster than you could believe!” He started off, following after the boy who was giggling keenly while trying to find shelter behind the tube slide. “Run! Run!” the Doctor called after him, as Matt spurted across the playground, with the Doctor close on his heels. “I’ll get you, and your little badger too!”

 

After the Doctor had succeeded in tagging Matt, he fled in the direction of Anne, who sat and watched, smiling contently. He incited Matt to tag his mother, since he found that she could really use some running to shake off the cold that had gripped her while sitting. They ran after each other and while running, they were only their bodies, not their minds. They were their feet speeding over the soil, they were their breaths steaming into the cold air as they panted and laughed, they were their hearts beating fast, their hands catching shoulders and backs. The universe didn’t matter and neither did the few stars that had come up once they finally stopped running.

 

As the horizon darkened, the Doctor escorted Matt and his mother to their London home. He stood with them in the crowded tube, walked with them through illuminated streets, made sure they were safe, made sure they would reach their doorstep. On the way, he had been carrying Matt; a tired foot soldier, exhausted from the events of the day. Matt was hugging Billie close to his chest, resting his small, heavy head on the Doctor’s shoulder as he walked, his steady footsteps rocking him to peace – a peace that he felt he could have in the Doctor’s presence. At number 239, they stopped, an unspoken tether keeping them together but pushing them apart at the same time.

“Do you still want to come up for a cuppa?” Anne asked, a faint spark of hope in her eyes.

“I’m…” He hesitated. Gently, he handed over the tired boy. Matt stirred at the loss of contact and in his mother’s arms, he turned around to meet the Doctor’s face.

“Don’t go…” he said, “You’re so cool. You’d make a good daddy.”

Matt’s quiet, genuine voice was an arrow to his hearts. He spoke with an affection that sounded like they had known each other for longer than just a few hours. The Doctor was a stranger to the universe, a man who left footprints but hardly any impacts, a man who existed to just a few. And even though in this London, in this December, no one remembered him, in this moment he was _cool_ and important because Matt believed he was.  

“Can we meet again tomorrow?” he asked, groggily but hopefully.

The Doctor hated to say it. “No, I don’t think so…”

“Why not?” Matt asked, upset, disappointed. For a reason unknown the Doctor felt like he had betrayed the boy’s trust. Because he had made himself count, only to disappear.

“Will we see you around?” Anne asked. She wouldn’t give up.

“I’m afraid not…” the Doctor said, “I’ll be off, travelling… seeing the world…”

“And you never settle down?” _For nothing and no one?_

He slowly shook his head. “No…”

“So… this is goodbye?”

He hated goodbyes. Everywhere in the universe, there were ends and beginnings. One door closed and another opened with just a snap of his fingers. He could travel back and forth, could pass the days of people and form an existence, but eventually, he would always be lonely. It would always be just the Doctor. He hated goodbyes. They reminded him of the end of a tape where the music stops and there’s silence. They reminded him of Rose, of Martha, of Donna. They reminded him of unfulfilled promises and of words that were never spoken. He hated goodbyes. Time went on and moments passed. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“I suppose it has to be, yes…” He looked at Anne, smiling sadly. That smile held so many things he couldn’t say. “Thank you… thank you for that wonderful day…” He would cherish the memory.

“Can I travel with you?” Matt asked. The question came as a surprise to the Doctor.

“Oh, but you need to stay here and look after your mother,” he said, “She needs you!”

Matt looked at the Doctor with shining eyes that held the heralds of tears.

“Will you do that for me? Look after her?” Matt nodded, because he didn’t know what else to do.

“I’ll be travelling the skies…” the Doctor said firmly, squeezing Matt’s hand as he spoke, “The stars and the planets… I might leave a flag for you on the moon… Whenever you watch the stars, look out for me…” He let go and smiled at him, encouraging, comforting. At least, if not more, he could be a happy memory to the boy.

He hated to leave them behind. He hated that he had to.

 

He didn’t exist in this year, in this city, didn’t exist anywhere but in himself and in the TARDIS. The only way he could make himself visible was by plunging into other people’s days, seeing fragments of lives, small pieces of history. But on his own, he was just the Doctor and it had to be enough because the rest of him was erased. He had to keep moving, leaving pencil strokes all across the universe, living with all the goodbyes. They shaped him. They were what his existence was all about. Change was everything he knew.

He lingered in the past only for a bit longer before flicking the switch. The TARDIS groaned, wheezed, roared – leaving.

_Allons-y!_

They were going onwards.


End file.
